A Night to Remember
by kakkujapojat
Summary: A small little M&M fic to celebrate Christmas Also my good friend Enacchi's X-mas present :3 Enjoy!


**Author's Notes:**

**This idea was inspired by -well- sadly, something I read at school. I had never heard about the story of the Christmas Truce before, and found it very interesting (maybe because it related to Germany...? xD) Anywho, it inspired a MelloxMatt fanfiction. **

**This is also my good online friend, Enacchi's, Christmas present :3 (Sorry it's after Christmas, but my internet isn't working, so... haha) So sit back, relax, enjoy, and review! :D**

**And NO, the title is not a play on 'A Walk to Remember'. It just happens to be similar. However the story is sort of a play on the movie 'Silent Night', which is about (and at the time of) the Christmas Truce.**

**Also, the story is told in Matt's POV. To those of you who know what the Christmas Truce was: Matt is on the British side, and Mello is on the German side (obviously).**

* * *

夜え思い出す

"A Night To Remember"

(Eine Nacht zu sich Erinern an)

_Une Nuit à Rappeler

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_

All I am aware of now is the cold. Within the winds is the stench of death and sickness, and the thin blankets we have do little good to aide us right now. I'm sure more of us will meet the end very soon. Oh how I wish I could go home. Yes, that is what I want right now more than anything. Not that I have anything to go back to, really, but it would simply be nice to have a warm bed, and clean clothes. Oh, how I would like a warm bath right about now. My muscles are aching, and I know I must positively reek. Though that's the last thing anyone is noticing out here. Our only current priority is to stay alive for as long as we can manage against the cruel fate we're presented with. Needless to say, we are staring death in the face; and it does nothing but stare right back at us.

The young man next to me -Alex, a good friend of mine- rests his arm on my shoulder, exhausted, as we continue walking to nowhere in particular. "I can't go on like this," he complains, closing his eyes and giving a long sigh. "It's exhausting. How much longer must we keep fighting like this? Will this war ever be over?"

I have my doubts, but I don't voice them; it's my job to put everyone at ease, even if I myself are leery of the events and fates to befall us next. "It won't be much longer," I assure him. "You will see. Pretty soon these two countries will settle their differences and make peace."

"I certainly hope so. I was engaged to marry a German girl, and this whole thing has ruined our plans."

"Don't worry. Once this is all over, we can go back home and carry out any plans we had before." I try to give a small smile, but I'm sure it looks forced.

"How can you be so optimistic? Everything and everyone is falling around us. What can you possibly find to hope for?" Alex asks me, his eyes questioning.

In reality, I'm not optimistic. Right now, I'm about the least optimistic person here. Though, if it will help any, I shall pretend – for their sake. "We have a chance, Alex," I tell him. "Germany is weakening, and soon we will be going home. Don't lose faith; we just have to pull through this."

"Say what you want. Those damn Germans are going to kill us, and you know it."

Maybe I do know it. Either way, I would never tell him that.

It's so dark right now that I can barely see, even Alex right beside me. For now the fire has ceased, and the men around me are slowly being put at ease. I tell them that the fighting is far from over; this is no doubt just a ploy for the Germans to sneak in a surprise attack. Be ready, I instruct them, for anything. Too tired to order anyone else around, I simply shut up and continue walking, my feet aching as they never have before.

We aren't quite sure where we're going right now. We just want somewhere safe to rest, wherever we may find it. I fear, however, that we may never, and only more of us will meet the bitter end from the cold nearly swallowing us whole. It's been snowing for hours now, and only getting worse.

After what seemed like endless, painful hours, God seems to have had pity on us, for just ahead we can clearly make out the outline of a house. We immediately freeze, brooding over the dangers that such a sight could present us with. It would be unquestionably stupid to walk up and knock right on the door, seeing as this is enemy territory, and there are red flags everywhere we turn. Quickly, I think of a plan.

"We'll walk around, and peek in the windows. If we see anyone on our side, we'll go in. If they are the enemy, then we shall walk on."

Alex and the others nod, too tired to do anything but agree with me. Without further discussion, we trek towards the small cottage, our guns loaded and aimed – just in case they're needed. No sounds come from inside, though we feel the presence of another party. Carefully, I sneak around to the front of the house and peek to see if anyone is outside. No one appears, and -relieved- I continue around.

Suddenly, my attention is grabbed by a loud crash nearby, and I turn in horror to find a side door to the house opened, and a gun pointed straight at my chest. The person on the other end of the rifle is a woman.

"Who are you!?" she demands, looking dead at me. I instantly drop my own gun and raise my hands, to show I mean no harm. The woman has an accent, so I can tell she is German. Great. That really helps our chances. Joy, joy, joy.

I take my chances with what is probably very awful German. "Ich bin Matt, und wir sind –" Before I can get the rest of my sentence out, the woman interrupts me.

"What are you doing here?!" she demands, never letting the gun down. I can see Alex and the others with their guns pointed at her, but I give them a warning look not to shoot.

"Bitte," I say. "Wir sind just hier to find a place to stay," I explain, knowing that she must think I'm crazy to mix German and English in my sentence like that. I only know certain words, and I figure it might help my chances. I know it's stupid, and probably only worsens my chances. Hell, the woman probably thinks that with my bad German I'm trying to mock them. Leave it up to me to get myself killed by trying to speak a foreign language. "We mean you no harm," I say, finally speaking all-English. "We aren't here to fight."

She's silent for a minute, still aiming the gun. However she finally seems to relax, and the rifle lowers. "Alright," she says. "You want a place to stay, do you?" She looks at each one of us in turn, and we nod slowly. "Well fine then. But leave your weapons outside."

I see Alex begin to protest, but I shush him. I can already see other weapons laying around the side of the house. "Alright," I agree. "We leave our weapons." I motion to the others, and they reluctantly drop their rifles at the side of the house. Still obviously wary of our intentions, the woman motions us inside.

I go in first, and when I walk inside I see a sight that makes my heart skip: five German soldiers are sitting in the room.

I immediately take a step back, but the woman pulls me forward. "Don't worry," she says. "They aren't armed, and we mean you no harm either."

Still unsure, I walk back in, Alex and my men following. The German soldiers present us with the same unwelcome glance, but we try not to provoke a fight as we sit down near the fire to gratefully warm ourselves.

"Danke sehr," I say to the woman.

To my surprise, she smiles warmly. "You're welcome," she replies.

It is then that I hear a soft moan coming from a back bedroom. All of our heads incline towards the noise, curiously, wondering what it is.

One of the German soldiers sigh. "Still in as much pain as before, huh?"

"Ja. The pain medicine doesn't seem to be helping," another replies.

The woman who let us in goes to a nearby cabinet. "I'll bring some more medicine, then. At the very least it can help him sleep." She heads toward the bedroom, and -curious- I follow.

Inside the bedroom, I'm startled to find what is possibly the most beautiful boy I have ever laid eyes on, resting in the bed with his eyes half-closed, a pained look crossing his face every few seconds. His white, blood-stained hands grip the sheets and he gives another moan.

"What happened to him?" I ask the woman, and she turns around, slightly startled to see that I've followed.

"He was shot by a British soldier," she responds rather coldly, administering a dose of the medicine to the blond resting underneath the sheets. "We managed to bandage the wound, but I fear it may be no use."

Now awake, the blond youth looks up at me, his eyes blue oceans of which I have never seen. They seem to pierce the bland darkness with a certain fire, and cause a chill to run up my spine. Then he turns to the woman and says in German, "Why is there a British soldier here?"

"They mean us no harm, don't worry. They're only looking for a place to stay." She takes up the medicine and puts a cool rag on his forehead. "They're not here to hurt us."

He seems to believe her, for when he looks up at me next his eyes aren't full of disdain. "Was ist deiner namen?" he asks, as the woman exits the room and closes the door behind her.

I hesitate. "Mail Jeevas – but they call me Matt back home."

The soldier's mouth curves into a small smile, and he looks back up at me. "Mihael Keehl – but they call me Mello." To my surprise, he extends a hand, and we shake.

I pull up a chair, and we sit in silence for a few moments, as I'm unsure what to say. My German isn't very good, so the conversation is limited. "Say, do you speak English?" I ask.

The boy called Mello nods. "Ja. I'm afraid it's not very good, but I do know some from working in England." he smiles, and his English is accompanied by a flattering German accent.

"You worked in England?" I question, now speaking English.

"Ja, for four years. See, my parents died when I was young, so I had to get a job – and at the time, England offered the most opportunities."

"I see." I think for a moment. "My parents are dead as well."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he responds, looking sincere. "How old were you?"

"Sixteen. It was three years ago."

"I see. It must be hard, having happened so recently."

I shrug, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. "Ja, I suppose. But I just don't think about it."

"Everyone has to think about something like that..." he muses, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Do you?" I inquire.

"Of course, all the time. I really..." I figure he was going to say 'miss them', but stopped himself. I'm not sure what to say again.

"I hate this," he says suddenly, and I look at his face, which is troubled.

"Hate what?" I ask, though I already am pretty sure I know the answer.

"This. This fighting. It's so stupid!" He sighs and looks towards the ceiling, wincing slightly as another spasm of pain shoots through his body. As the moon casts a glow on his face, I can see the bits of blood smeared on his cheeks. "Why can't we just get along?" His voice is pained.

"I- I don't know," I admit truthfully. "We just do what we're told. When our country needs us to fight, we fight. That's the way it is, and that's the way it's always been."

"It shouldn't be that way."

"I know, it shouldn't. But we have no control over it."

He shakes his head. "Look at us here, at Christmas, covered head to toe in mud or blood, and miles away from our families. What a way to spend the holidays," Mello says bitterly.

"We'll be going home soon – this war has to end sometime," I reply, trying to cheer him up.

"If we don't die first, that is."

I swallow the lump in my throat as he says this. I don't want to die. No one here does. "It'll get better."

He looks over at me. "How do you know?"

How do I know? I don't know. I wish I did, but I don't. "I just do," I say, suddenly confident. "God will see to that."

"God?" he laughs slightly, and then winces again. "There's no such thing as God. If there were, the world wouldn't be so screwed up."

"You have to believe in something though. If you don't, how do you expect to get through this? Something has to keep you going." I shake my head slightly.

"You ask what keeps me going?" He gives a long sigh and gazes up into the ceiling as though seeing a light for the first time. "I honestly don't know. I just do." He then focuses his attention back on me. "What about you? You can't be doing this all for God. There has to be another reason you're still alive."

I'm surprised this answer comes so naturally to me. "I have others counting on me. My friends, colleagues. If I were to abandon them now, I could never forgive myself."

"You're lucky. I don't have any friends left to abandon."

"I'm sorry," I say truthfully. "War is Hell, and we're stuck in the middle."

"No, you're wrong," he says, shaking his head. "This is worse than Hell."

Maybe he's right. Right now, I'm willing to believe it.

We sit in silence for a few more minutes, and listen to the idle chatter of those from the other room. No one comes in to speak to either of us, though I'm slightly grateful. I'm surprised, however, when Mello sits up in bed despite his pain and looks out the window. Neither of us really say anything. The quiet air is welcomed, after hearing so many gunshots, and screams of pain.

Then I hear his voice, quiet, from the bed. "When do you think we'll start shooting again?"

"I don't know," I respond softly. "I suppose we'll go our separate ways when morning comes."

I hear a soft sob coming from nearby, and I look over – surprised to see him wiping tears from his blue eyes. "I want to go home," he whimpers, his voice shaking. "I don't want to be here anymore."

Cautiously, I move over to the edge of the bed and put a comforting arm around him. "I know. We all do. But...it will get better. It has to. We can all go home soon."

"H-how do you know?" he says again, sniffling slightly.

"I just do," I reply. "Trust me."

"I-I don't trust any of your British soldiers," he says, slightly angry.

"But don't you see? For tonight, we are friends. We have no reason to hate each other right now."

"Yeah, but what's the point? None of it will mean anything when morning comes."

I am silent, realizing he's right. None of this will matter when morning comes. We'll just be enemies again.

"Are you in much pain?" I ask, trying to be friendly.

"The medicine helps," he says, putting a hand to his side – the place I assume to be where he was shot at. I can see the pained look on his face as he touches it. Slowly, I reach over and lift up his shirt to view the wound; it's covered by a blood-soaked bandage, and looks unbearably painful. I wonder if it may have gotten infected. Even though this boy was supposed to be my enemy, I couldn't help but hope that it wasn't.

"You should rest," I instruct him. "Moving about will only make it worse."

He looks back at me, his eyes filled with surprise at my concern. "Yes, you're probably right."

"Feel free to go to sleep," I say, smiling a little. "I'm not going to strangle you in your sleep or anything."

To my surprise, he laughs. "I don't think you will," he replies, and then -suddenly- he reaches up to touch my face. I don't move, too mesmerized by his blue eyes to do anything but simply sit stock still and feel the brush of his soft fingertips against my cheeks. His brow then furrows slightly, as though trying to figure something out. "I don't understand," he says at last.

"Don't understand what?" I breathe, and only then is it that I notice I've been holding my breath.

"You feel...human. I've always imagined the British soldiers as heartless, cruel monsters. But you...you're just as human as the rest of us." His eyes look slightly sad.

"I believe every soldier feels that way about his enemy. They never seem human to us." But as his fingertips touch my skin, I know just how human they are. "We all have a misconception of our enemies."

"How can we shoot at those not so different from ourselves?" he asks. "We're killing people out there, and no one bats an eyelash. It's like we're all just robots, doing our country's bidding without thinking twice about whose lives we're taking. Whose families we're destroying."

I stare, intrigued and saddened at the same time. I had never -in all my years- thought of it so deeply. Sure it had always bothered me, but I never thought twice about firing my gun at someone. I never wondered about who it was, or who they might be leaving behind. This opens up a whole new window for me. "You're right," I say. "I don't understand it either."

"Everyone of us is human. That's obvious tonight. Everyone of us has lives, and family, and people we love and care about. Yet we just kill off enemies without even thinking about them as human. It makes me sick, just thinking about it..." Fresh tears fall out of his eyes, and his hand softly strokes my face. "I've never thought about it until now, when I can touch someone of the enemy race so close. Even though we've been trained to do so, I-I don't think I could ever even bring myself to shoot you now."

"I'm sure a lot of people would feel that way, were we all to simply sit down and discuss our problems rather than declaring war."

He smiles, a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Yes, that's probably right." He sighs, and -exhausted- lays back down on the bed, closing his eyes. "Would it trouble you greatly to stay in here while I sleep? I-I don't want to be alone."

I smile gently, and brush a strand of blond hair from his face. "Of course not. I don't mind at all."

"Thank you..." he replies, his voice barely a whisper as he begins to drift off.

I take his hand in my own, and softly stroke it as he sleeps. I honestly don't understand it myself, how we can bring ourselves to kill those that are just as human as ourselves. It is true, no doubt, that if we ever got to know one another, then this fighting would be realized as pointless. However, the chances of that happening are very slim. This German boy, who just five minutes ago I would have been ready to shoot without a second thought, suddenly feels so close to me. So...human. Even though I barely know him, I think of him as a friend. He can't be any older than myself, and so thin and frail. How he managed to last a second in this war, I really don't know. Maybe the countries will realize that it isn't necessary to hate each other, that peace can be brought about a different way. Certainly, the war will end soon, and we can all settle our differences and be friends. Hopefully...hopefully...it will all end soon.

* * *

The next morning, we went our separate ways. Mello's wound seemed to be better, and he went with the other German soldiers. They all bid us a friendly farewell, the whole of us seeming to realize each others' humanity. I continued on with Alex and the others, and Mello continued with the Germans. Before we parted for good, he pulled me into a quick embrace, whispering five unforgettable words in my ear: "I will see you again." And they left.

The war ended soon after.

I've always thought back to that night, wondering what happened to the German soldiers. I never saw Mello again, and assumed that he had been killed like the rest of them. The beautiful blond German boy, whose words I will never forget as long as I live. Sometimes I even dream about him, and about that night. Even though it's been four years, I can still remember his face as clear as day. I think about him every day, wondering. Though I know it's all in vain. There's no doubt in my mind that he died that night, either from his wound or from another soldier. This thought saddens me, though I'm not quite sure why. Did I feel something for him? In that short night, did I manage to fall in love? It's almost too ridiculously impossible to believe. I simply resigned myself to the fact that I would never see him again.

* * *

"Sir, there is someone at the door wishing to see you."

I look up from the newspaper as the maid addresses me, curious. No one ever visits, unless they're collecting bills or selling something. I have pretty much no friends, so no one ever wishes to see me. Figuring it's probably news of a death, or some other depressing topic, I sigh and stand up from my chair, trudging downstairs to greet the visitor.

The first thing I notice is the blond hair, and all of my other senses seem to go numb. Though it's stupid to think that, as I'm sure there are plenty of blond-haired people in the world. "Excuse me, sir," I address them, hoping to God that it doesn't turn out to be a woman I just called 'sir', "can I help you?"

The visitor turns around, and I'm immediately met with radiant blue eyes that pierce through the gap between us like a dagger. I would know those eyes anywhere, even if I haven't seen them for four entire years. I slowly take in the rest of the boy in front of me, from the smile spread across his face, to the colour in his cheeks – something that I hadn't seen that night during the war.

"Hi..." he says, slightly timid. "I told you we'd see each other again, didn't I?"

Too dumbfounded and shocked to speak, I simply stand staring like an idiot, hardly able to believe it. "Y-you..."

"I would've shown up sooner, but it took me forever to find where you live. Long time no see, huh?"

"I-I thought you had died..." I say breathlessly.

"Haha, I thought you had, too. But then I moved up here, hoping to find you, and I heard about a Mail Jeevas living in a mansion nearby. Wouldn't happen to be you, by any chance, would it?"

For some reason, I find myself throwing my arms around him. "I don't know why," I say, "But I'm happy."

"Haha, me too. I've wanted to see you again, ever since that night." He pulls back and looks into my own green eyes, taking a deep breath. "I can't explain it, but you've occupied my thoughts ever since then. Your words, your eyes, everything."

"Same here. I-I know it sounds silly, but I couldn't stop thinking about you..."

"It doesn't sound silly at all." He shakes his head. "I think...something happened between us that night. Something neither one of us understands, but is there. And it's what helped us meet again, I know it."

"You really think so?" I ask.

"Yes. I think..." Without finishing the rest of the sentence, he pulls me forward and captures our lips in a surprise kiss, sending an electric shock throughout my whole body. When he draws back, the both of us are blushing. "I think...that I might have fallen in love with you."

I can feel my heart skip a beat. I don't reply, but simply recapture our lips, deepening the kiss slightly. We both part, breathless. "I think..." I say, "...that I may have fallen in love with you, too. The way you spoke, your words, your eyes, everything."

We don't say much after that, but we don't have to. Words aren't needed as we stumble into a nearby bedroom and lock the door behind us. Our thoughts, our unexplainable feelings from four years ago are made clear. I don't know why, I don't understand it, but something did happen between us that night. Something neither one of us can explain. But it's there, I know it. That short night four years ago created something between the two of us that can't be erased.

Four years ago, he taught me something I'll never forget. We're all human, and we all feel, we all hurt. No matter which side you're on in a war, you're no different than your enemies. If this wasn't shown clearly on that winter night, then I don't know what was. You can fight as much as you want, but when it all comes down to the end, we're all human. Not monsters, or robots as our enemies are led to believe. All of us are as human as anyone else. All of us hate, and all of us love. And if you ask me...

Love is stronger than hate any day.

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**Author's Notes:**

**I'm sorry for that corny little fic, haha. If it seems rushed at some points, I'm sorry. I started it WAY early in December and didn't finish, and then -four days before X-mas:**

**Me: "OH MY GOD I NEED TO FINISH IT!!" -rushes to computer to type- **

**Hahaha. Like I said, this was a Christmas present for my online friend, Enacchi. I hope you like it, even though I don't think it's very good... ;; I did try, though! Haha. Merry Christmas!! (and happy New Year!) I hope you're feeling better, ne? **


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